


I might have a better idea

by clokkerfoot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Fluff, M/M, Music, although I totally changed the mid credits scene because it sucked a butthole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokkerfoot/pseuds/clokkerfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a much healthier solution to Bucky's problems than cryostasis. Glenn Miller is the answer to everything, right?</p><p>Based on <a href="http://sov-ja.tumblr.com/post/144509079698/i-wish-everything-was-that-simple">this fanart</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I might have a better idea

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for using Glenn Miller music in yet another fic. I just love him, okay?! [This is the song that Steve plays for Bucky. Listen to it while you read, if you like.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDEtNgV13aA)

“What?” was the first thing that Steve said. “Why?” was the second.

“If I go back under, then I won't hear the words anymore.” Bucky said. Steve needed to listen to him, needed to understand why the Winter Soldier needed to be kept locked away until Bucky could be separated from him, but Steve was stubborn. “It's better for everybody. Better for _you_ , Steve.”

Steve jolted like a skipping record. “For me?” he said, his words quiet. He looked beaten down, exhausted. The world had been weighing down on Steve for years, and Bucky knew he was just an extra weight on top of everything else.

He glanced at Steve’s furrowed brow. Bucky realised what he’d implied and he backtracked, anxious to not ruin what they’d built. “It’s not your fault,” he explained, “Don't blame yourself. This is my decision.”

“But—”

“Steve.” Bucky sighed and touched his hand to the curve of his knee. He looked down at his stump, at what was left of his metal arm. The sight of it, ruined and useless but _still there_ , made Bucky queasy. “It's my decision. Those words are still out there. That book is still out there. If someone gets ahold of it…”

“They won't. They won't get to you again.” Steve said, firmly. “We’ll protect you. T'Challa has forces that can protect you. We’re—we’re in _Wakanda_ , Buck. No one knows that we’re here.”

“The UN didn't know where I was, either, but they still found me.” Bucky said. He looked back at Steve, at his agonised expression, then stared at the ground. It was too hard to look at Steve when he was that sad. “It's for the best. There's no way around it. I can't stop myself from listening to the words.”

Steve was silent. He stood there in Bucky’s peripheral for a moment, then left the room.

_He's mad at you again. You messed it up._

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled. He rubbed his stump and stared at the door Steve had left through. There were no functional sensation receptors left in his arm anymore, but he could almost feel himself scratching an itch that wasn't there.

Phantom pain, they called it. The sensation of feeling something that was no longer there. Bucky read about it in a leaflet. He read about a lot of things in leaflets. He read a lot about _Steve Rogers_ in leaflets, too. Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos and Bucky Barnes.

He was Bucky. He was. But he wasn't quite the Bucky that Steve wanted him to be. Needed him to be.

Steve appeared in the doorway again. He didn't look mad. _He is, he is, he is._

“Steve?”

Steve stepped into the room and advanced on Bucky, his hands hidden behind his back. Something hot flared in Bucky’s stomach, something that screamed _CONCEALED WEAPON_ in the same voice that said Bucky’s thoughts inside his head.

“I might have a better idea.” Steve said. He was acting shy, hidden away behind himself. Bucky straightened up. He trusted Steve, he thought, but even friends could use weapons and even friends could turn bad.

Steve held out an MP3 player and a pair of red earphones.

“These will stop you hearing the words if anyone ever says them,” Steve explained before handing Bucky the player and the earphones, “It’s my music, so you should like it. You always liked my music. And the earphones are noise-cancelling. They'll keep all the other sounds out.”

Steve sat beside him on the bed and helped him untangle the wires, then handed Bucky the earbuds. They felt foreign in his ears, far softer than Bucky’s old field communicators.

Bucky didn't know the music that was listed before him, so Steve picked a song for him.

A series of instruments that Bucky recognised but couldn't name started playing, setting out a gentle best that gradually rose in intensity. Every sound was blocked out by the music.

“ _Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,_  
_And so I come to you, my love, my heart above my head._  
_Though I see the danger there,  
If there's a chance for me then I don't care._ ”

Bucky glanced up at Steve. He was smiling at him, his expression somehow _soft_. Bucky removed one of the earbuds and handed it to Steve, without thinking.

But Steve accepted it. It must've been the right thing to do.

“ _Fools rush in where wise men never go,_  
_But wise men never fall in love so how are they to know?_  
_When we met, I felt my life begin,  
So open up your heart and let this fool rush in._ ”

Steve silently mouthed the words along with the song, his eyes still on Bucky. When it ended, after only a couple of minutes, Steve handed the earbud back to Bucky.

He slipped the earbud back into his ear just as another song started. It was loud enough that the world was blocked out again, and Bucky was left with his thoughts and the sounds of an unknown singer crooning words of affection.

Steve left the room again after a few minutes. He paused in the doorway, looked back at Bucky.

“I love you,” he said, his words not audible over the music.

Bucky didn't need to take his earbuds out to hear it echo inside his head, like Steve had said it a hundred times before.

He had.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's really short and all, but I hope you liked it nonetheless. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://clokkerfoot.tumblr.com/).


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